----------------------------------------
Orion’s legs lost their mental support and buckled over, driving his knees into cracked rock and his face into the wall. But before he made impact, he raised his hands and shielded his face. His mind registered little pain as his limbs got further numbed. He remained on his knees, resting against the wall with his eyes downcast.
How? What? How? How had he crossed thousands of miles? Humans couldn’t create portals and the nearest one to the House of Zakari was a whole week away by horseback. Even if the whole journey to Visgamar had been made using multiple portals, it would still take a whole month at least. But, despite being the quickest route, portals were also dangerous to such a point it was unreasonable to use them. This meant that he hadn’t been conscious for at least over a month…
How had his Hero made such a journey? How had they put him in a coma for so long? Why had they put him in a coma? Why had they chosen Visgamar? Why not the capital of the Empire, or maybe a small village to hide in?
Countless questions barrelled around in Orion’s head, causing him a headache. He stopped thinking and took a deep breath. He hadn’t been the strongest Zakari, not by a long shot, but he had been one of the smarter ones.
A paltry amount of pride blossomed in Orion at this, although it was engulfed by misery as he thought of his siblings, cousins, second-cousins, and so on. They were all utterly marvellous, and he was sure they wouldn’t be snivelling in a dirty alleyway if they were in his position.
Wiping his tears away with his sleeve, Orion took another deep breath and stood up. He had to review what he knew and not get tangled up in the past. Unfortunately, the only thing he knew for certain was that he had woken up in a disused storage house by the docks. Thinking on the matter now, it seemed more likely he had been abandoned there on purpose.
The crux of the matter was the abandoned bag on the table. From its quality and lack of dust, Orion knew someone had put it there recently, and that it wasn’t his Hero’s equipment, after all, there was no way in Heaven or Hell that anyone would travel from the House of Zakari to Visgamar with just a pocket knife and a handful of food.
But despite being certain, he was still aware of other very-unlikely explanations for the bag. He considered wiping away the blood tracker but realised if his Hero had just been out for a bit, it was still for the best he left it there. He did, however, sneak back into the disused storage building and steal the bag. It was dirty-maroon and had two straps to put his arms through. It sagged above his butt but other than that, it fit well. Then, he sneaked out and went back to the alleyway, walking onwards to find a main road.
The part that bit him the most about his thought-track was that it seemed inconceivable why someone would put him in a coma in the first place, and why they would just leave him in Visgamar in the second place. In fact, it made a lot more sense if he had just misheard the ringing, or even if another town had copied the bell’s design. So, Orion decided to find someone less shady to ask.
While this should have been an easy task, it turned out to be the opposite as right next to the docks were slums, or of the sort, finished with many dead ends and lack of directions. This meant he had to jump over many a wall and tightly grip his knife as he walked, as well as pray his nose would survive the pitfalls of shit and garbage littered about.
Close to an hour later, Orion found the main road, a faint glimmer of sweat plastered on his forehead. It was early morning, and the fog had lifted enough it had altered into mist.
The main road was well-lit with glass lanterns every few metres. The road itself was looked-after, and potholes and cracks were hard to find. It was about eight or ten metres wide and likely travelled the whole city considering how wealthy of an image it gave the area. Furthermore, after watching the road for a few minutes, he realised it was well-policed with both stationary units and patrolling teams. Seeing another team march past, Orion walked onto the road and headed towards a standing guard. Now closer and in the bright lamplight, he felt his hopes drop as he glanced at the soldier.
Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.
The middle-aged man wore a gambeson with an insignia showing a boat amidst stormy seas. He had padded trousers and hard boots on, as well as a chain-mail hood. Only his hands and face were bare, and both showed wrinkled, cut, and scarred skin.
The article that caused half of Orion’s hopes to dash was the taller-than-man halberd the guard held. It wore a worn spike and axe on its head, but it also had another spike midway down the shaft; halberds were sparsely used in the West of the Empire, where the House of Zakari and its lands were, but were valued and commonly used in the East, where Visgamar lay…
“Good sir,” Orion called as he stepped into the light, “May I ask a few questions?” He started off over-polite to show the guard he was less than a threat, and more of a rich lost lord.
The guard regarded Orion and his funny accent. Orion’s clothes looked of quality-make but were also dirty and creased. His pale skin and sharp and snappy accent showed he was a Westerner, which explained the journey-worn clothes. Overall, Orion looked too rich for the guard to kick off Hexham’s road, but not rich enough for the guard to kneel and lick the soles of his shoes.
“What’s it, Westerner? Are ye lost from yor family?” the guard replied. He stretched each word past what was sensible, but that was simply the weird way they spoke in the East. The evidence was stacking up against Orion’s hopes.
“Of the sort, sir. I’ve had a bit too much to drink the other day, and I must’ve passed out. My devilish sisters dumped me somewhere to that direction,” he said while pointing behind him, “to get revenge on me. I need to be back on the carriage as soon as possible, before my Papi gets too angry. Give me some joy and tell me this is Visgamar, at least,” he finished, hoping the guard wouldn’t give him that joy.
“Sounds like wretched bitches. Na worries, this is the glorious city of Visgamar.” He looked at Orion’s expression and continued. “Ah, I know that look. It’s the fifteenth today.”
“Of?” Orion sucked in his breath.
The guard looked at him strangely. “First month of Amadia.”
Orion felt a hammer to his stomach. Two months; it had been two whole months since the day… “What’s the way to the biggest Inn here?” he asked through clenched teeth, desperate to be alone with his thoughts.
“The Golden Goose. Maybe two miles that way, past the markets.”
“Thanks,” Orion said, before rushing away.
“And boy,” the guard called after him, “lay off the drink. Eating away yer brain,”
The words were like one of wind’s whispers as they brushed past, barely audible to Orion. Instead, his mind clattered about the fact he had heard the ringing accurately, and how his absurd ideas must be right then. He had been unconscious for two months, and someone had brought him here in that time, for whatever reason.
Engrossed in his thoughts, he walked absentmindedly, instead trying to fit three parts of a massive puzzle together from different directions just to call it complete. He soon found a river and followed its stream, ignoring the rising number of people on the streets.
It was minutes later that he stopped. There was a small stage next to the river where a crowd had gathered. From eavesdropping passing conversations, Orion identified the soldier walking up the stage to be one of the city’s many town criers who delivered the news hot and piping before the papers got a chance.
“HEAR ME,” the soldier roared, hushing the crowd. “TODAY, THE CAPITAL HAS SENT OUT SHOCKING REPORTS.”
This silenced the quiet crowd.
“THE HOUSE OF ZAKARI PLANNED TREASON AGAINST THE CROWN AND EMPIRE. THEY LOOKED TO CAUSE DESTRUCTION AND CHAOS, MASSACRE AND RAPE.”
Gasps, cries, panic.
The soldier stopped and watched the crowd, letting fear spread. After allowing the moment to mature, he spoke up to pluck the fruit.
“THE EMPIRE HAS RAZED DOWN THE HOUSE OF ZAKARI. THE EMPIRE HAS ERASED THEIR LINEAGE. THE EMPIRE IS SAFE.”
----------------------------------------